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THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


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THE 

FAT FROG of PAU 


BY 

KATHERINE STEDMAN PALMER 

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THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

44 0 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
M C M X I X 


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Copyright, 1919, by 
The Neale Publishing Company 



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J4IV -2 1920 


©CI.A561243 


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TO MY FATHER 


CHARLES MANLY STEDMAN 


THE FRIEND OF THE GOLDEN ORIOLE 





























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THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


The Golden Oriole that builds every year 
in one of the trees along the chestnut drive told 
the story, and there is every reason to believe 
that it is true. 

You see, the Oriole is friendly with all the 
creatures that gather on the river-banks at 
sunset. He often chats with the two Crickets, 
who, as all Pau knows, are the greatest gossips 
in the Pyrenees. Besides, it was he who sang 
the wedding march the day Mademoiselle Snail 
was married, because the Thrush was suffering 
from a severe cold. 

Moreover, he often sees the Fat Frog in his 
comfortable, damp corner close by the new 
fountain at the Villa Bergiere. And he knows 
the Frog stays there not because he is heart- 
broken, as so many persons seem to think, but 
because Wait! 

This is the Oriole ’s tale : 

When Loti, the Black Ox, who belongs to old 
Pierre, the wood-chopper, came down to the 
7 


8 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


river-bank to graze that evening there was no 
one to be seen anywhere. 

This had never happened before, and Loti, 
who was of a very sociable nature, felt very 
much disappointed. He switched his tail, pre- 
tending that there was a fly bothering him, then 
he put his head on one side to listen. 

Presently he heard a great stirring among 
the rushes, and soon the Fat Frog, who was 
always an important person in Pau, came 
puffing into view. 

Close behind him followed Mademoiselle 
Snail, a good deal out of breath with the exer- 
tion of keeping up with the Frog. She usually 
moved slowly, both because she was of a timid, 
cautious nature, and because it was necessary 
for her to carry her house with her wherever 
she went. 

After the Snail came the two Crickets and 
the Dragon Fly and ever so many others ; and 
they were all so excited and out of breath that 
for a moment they did not pay any attention 
to Loti’s pleasant “Bon soir!” 

“Ciel!” croaked the Fat Frog, dropping down 
upon a convenient frogstool, and beginning to 
fan himself with a leaf, — “Ciel! but there are 
fine doings in Pau these days!” 

He cleared his throat twice, and then, bowing 


THE FAT FEOG OF PAU 


9 


gravely to the old Black Ox, who was looking 
at him inquiringly, queried: 

“Good evening, my Loti, have yon by any 
chance ever seen an American ?” 

“An American?” As he repeated the ques- 
tion, Loti raised his black head and looked over 
to the west, where the golden sunset crowned 
the peaks of the Pyrenees. “I don’t believe I 
have ever heard of one. Is it a mountain ani- 
mal, — and very fierce?” 

“It is you, Loti, who are a mountain ani- 
mal, — and very stupid, I fear,” retorted the 
Fat Frog, who had quite recovered his breath 
by this time. 4 4 This American is not an animal 
at all, but a woman. She comes from a country 
across the sea, which, you understand, Made- 
moiselle, 9 1 here he bowed gallantly to the Snail, 
4 4 is merely a word meaning a very large river. 
She has leased the Villa Bergiere for the season, 
and has changed it almost beyond recognition. 

4 4 Such a time as she has made with her deco- 
rators, her carpenters, her gardeners, and what 
not! Such a fountain as plays in her court- 
yard! Such fruits as are on her trees! Such 
flowers and vegetables as grow in her garden! 
Such a mushroom-house as she has had built 
and such mushrooms as are to be found therein! 
dell” 


10 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


The Fat Frog rolled his eyes heavenward, 
and, if he had not been a French frog and most 
careful of his table manners, one would have 
suspected him of smacking his lips. 

“ Mushrooms are so delicious !” put in 
Mademoiselle Snail in her low, soft voice. “But 
one has to be so careful of the varieties that 
grow wild ; and I would never be brave enough 
to go alone to the garden of the Villa Bergiere. ” 

She sighed faintly. 

“But you would be brave enough to go with 
me, would you not?” asked the Fat Frog tend- 
erly. “I will take care of you.” 

The Snail waved her horns in tremulous 
gratitude. She admired the Fat Frog exceed- 
ingly. 

“It all sounds interesting enough,” said Loti 
good-naturedly. He never resented it when the 
Frog called him ‘ ‘ stupid. ’ ’ Perhaps he realized 
that the old gentleman was nervous and dyspep- 
tic and did not mean to be horrid. “But how 
did you happen to find out about the American 
and her mushrooms ? I thought you never ven- 
tured into the grounds of the Villa Bergiere.” 

“The Humming Bird, whose nest is in the 
fig tree outside the South window of the grand 
salon, told me, ’ ’ replied the Frog. She remem- 
bered my fondness for those figs, and stopped 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


11 


to tell me that they were ripe and that I might 
safely come to get some now. She said that 
the Parisians who had leased the Villa for the 
past two seasons were not returning this year 
and, — which is of far more importance, — neither 
was their cook, Jean. 8 acre ! but that Jean was 
a pig. And such a nose ! I am convinced that 
he could smell a frog a league off. While he 
ruled in the Villa kitchen the only safety to 
our family lay in keeping as far from it as 
possible. Even then there were times when he 
pursued us to the river itself. 

“But now, so the Humming Bird assured me, 
all this is over. There is no longer any danger 
to my fat legs from imbecile cooks. Indeed, if 
all she said be true,” here the Fat Frog’s eyes 
twinkled as they looked at the Old Ox, “it is 
you, my Loti, not I who should tremble now. 
Americans eat not frog’s legs but biftek. 

“Not that I am a coward,” he added hastily ; 
“I hope I have too much pride in family tradi- 
tions for that . There is one, — well sustained 
by all the most aristocratic frogs of Pan , — 
to the effect that one of my remote ancestors 
was partaken of at petit souper by no less a 
personage than the great Henri of Navarre 
himself, who, — as all the world knows, — was 
born in yonder chateau . My dread is not of 


12 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


death itself but of a death that is ignoble . 1 
would not mind tickling the palate of a king 
or an emperor , but to gratify the pig appetites 
of the canaille — Sacre ! the mere thought sickens 
me.” 

“It is all a matter of opinion, I suppose,” 
said Loti thoughtfully. “For my own part, I 
do not yearn to be eaten by either king or peas- 
ant. I am thankful that when one grows old and 
tough there is little chance of figuring either 
as biftek or entree. Did you, my friend, exer- 
cise more and eat less, you would not be haunted 
constantly by the fear of some calamity befall- 
ing those fat legs of yours.’ ’ 

“Yes, yes,” interrupted the Fat Frog a bit 
testily (his appetite was his weak point and 
he did not care to be reminded of it) ; “I know 
your theories on that subject by heart, my Loti. 
But to come back to the American : 

“For three seasons I had not tasted those 
figs, and, you may be sure, I lost no time in 
following the Humming Bird’s advice and 
hastening to the Villa, What a joy it was once 
more to amble fearlessly along the chestnut- 
bordered drive and plan a feast when the nuts 
should be ripe ! ’ ’ 

“I know, I know,” put in Loti, with a rem- 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


13 


iniscent shake of his ears. “Many a load of 
wood have I hauled that way.” 

The Fat Frog paid no attention. He liked 
to tell a story all himself. 

“Presently I came to the garden,” he went 
on, “and there I caught a first glimpse of the 
many changes the American had made. While 
I was sniffing at the lilies, up she came herself, 
talking with Frangois the gardener. Then I 
jumped into a bunch of narcissus-stalks, where 
I could hear and see, without being seen.” 

“Is this American handsome?” inquired Loti. 

“How was she dressed?” asked Mademoiselle 
Snail eagerly. 

“Americans are never handsome,” answered 
the Fat Frog solemnly. “They are too thin, 
they have shoulders like men, and big teeth. 
As for her clothes, — you know I seldom notice 
such matters.” 

“They buy their things in Paris,” interposed 
one of the Crickets. 

“So that they will delude the people of Pau 
into believing them to be French, ” ventured the 
other Cricket. 

The Fat Frog frowned. There were alto- 
gether too many interruptions to please him. 

“This American wore something that was 


14 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


sky-colored and trailed on the ground/ ’ he said 
grandly. 

4 4 No doubt it was a robe Josephine,” sighed 
the Snail ecstatically. “Wish I could have seen 
it!” 

Loti looked bored, but he said nothing. 

“You can look at it when we go after mush- 
rooms, ” the Fat Frog told her. He was not 
interested in clothes himself, but he rather liked 
to please Mademoiselle Snail. “Which reminds 
me : The American and Francois soon left the 
flower-garden, and turned into a side path that 
led to the mushroom-house. I followed close 
behind, taking care that they should not see 
me, and while the door was open I managed to 
slip inside. 

“I hid in a dark corner while the American 
was talking, and she talked a great deal, — and 
hunted for a convenient hole. I knew that 
human beings were apt to be inconsiderate, and 
I could never depend upon the door’s being 
left open. 

“I found one just the right size for a frog 
of my proportions to squeeze through,” — here 
the Fat Frog expanded his chest proudly, — 
“then I sat very still and looked about me. I 
assure you, my friends, you have never seen 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


15 


such an array of delicious buttons as met my 
eye. They were sprouting everywhere. 

“I moved a little from the wall, — the Ameri- 
can was still talking. I sampled the buttons, — 
she still talked. I tried another and another; 
I took a few more nibbles, and when the lady 
finished her conversation with Frangois, and 
was ready to leave the mushroom-house, I went 
too. 

“I wandered up the terrace and across the 
courtyard. I saw the fountain of which I spoke. 
I stopped to pay my respects to the Humming 
Bird and thank her for her information. I dis- 
covered, however, the mushrooms had taken 
away my appetite for the figs. ’ ’ Here he sighed 
regretfully. ‘ ‘ So I came back to tell my friends 
the news.” 

“That American must indeed have talked a 
long time in her mushroom-house,” murmured 
Loti, as though to himself. 

The two Crickets, whose ears were always 
open, giggled very hard at this speech. Then 
they scurried away through the dusk, chirping 
to themselves, and the Dragon Fly flitted after 
them. The Fat Frog yawned in a tired sort 
of way. 

“They have no manners,” he said, “and are 


16 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


small loss. Besides, I am getting sleepy, any- 
how. ’ 9 

The Snail drew closer and waved her horns 
coquettishly. 

“I prefer mushrooms to figs myself,” she 
whispered ; ‘ ‘ the flavor is more delicate. ’ 9 

The Fat Frog smiled at her. 

4 4 They will envy us instead of laughing at us 
by this time to-morrow,” he whispered back. 
4 4 Be sure you are ready early.” 

Soon after sunrise the next morning the Fat 
Frog hopped from the river-bank to the foot 
of the lane that leads to the Villa Bergiere, and 
there he found Mademoiselle Snail waiting for 
him. 

She had been busy getting ready since day- 
break. She had polished her shell in the long 
grass until it fairly shone. Her eyes were 
bright, and she felt so pleased at the thought of 
seeing new sights, with the Fat Frog as a guide, 
that her horns stood up straight. In short, she 
looked so charming that the Fat Frog decided 
on the spot that she was really the prettiest 
snail in Pau. 

He didn’t say so, however, for the Fat Frog, 
like a good many people, was apt to be grumpy 
before breakfast. 

“Let’s hurry,” he called as he came up to 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 17 

the Snail, “ those Crickets are such gossips that 
there is no telling how far they have spread 
the news of the mushrooms, how large a crowd 
may get there before we do. I, for one, do not 
care to come all this distance and find nothing 
for my pains.” 

He set off at a fine pace, — for, with all his 
flesh, the old gentleman had never lost the 
springiness of his youth, — and the Snail crawled 
after him as fast as she could. 

Poor little thing! she was quite out of breath 
when she got to the Villa Bergiere. Her shell 
was again covered with dust, her eyes were 
heavy, and her horns were drooping. 

The Fat Frog was too busy pointing out the 
beauties of the place to notice her disarray. To 
fear his exclamations would have produced the 
impression that he was, — if not proprietor of 
the Villa, — the landscape gardner at least. 

“See yonder lily bed. Behold the velvet of 
the grass ! What would not be Loti’s joy could 
he graze in here. Ciel! didst ever see such fruit 
and such a fountain f” 

“It is indeed beautiful,” agreed the Snail 
feebly, dropping onto a cool, sheltered spot close 
to the fountain, and drawing a sigh of relief as 
its spray fell upon her dusty little shell. 


18 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


The Fat Frog drew near, seated himself upon 
a broad lily leaf, and beamed down upon her. 

Just at that moment a merry laugh floated 
across the courtyard. The American had come 
to the window of the chateau and had seen 
them. She leaned far out over the sill and 
began to sing in a clear, pretty soprano voice : 

“A frog he would a-wooing go, — ho! ho! 

Whether his mother would or no, — ho! ho!” 


“ There she is!” whispered the Frog to the 
Snail, “Didst ever hear such French? The 
poorest peasant of the Bosset Pyrenees would 
be ashamed to use it. 

But for once the Snail paid no attention to 
what he said. She was peering wildly around 
her horns to see if the American still wore the 
blue robe Josephine. Meanwhile that lady kept 
on singing: 

“This frog a-courting he did ride, — ho! ho! — 

With sword and pistol by his side, — ho! ho!” 

“In France,” broke in another voice just 
then, — and a man came and stood back of the 
American, — “In France we do not sing songs 
to frogs; we eat them.” 

“Eat them?” repeated the American, “eat 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


19 


them?” Her eyes were wide and round. 
“When I rented the villa I planned to be a 
real French chatelaine in every possible way. I 
thought I would talk and dress and live as they 
do here. I had made up my mind to eat cabbage 
soup and lentils and truffles, omelettes, salads, — 
all the things one reads of in story books, — but I 
had never thought of frogs ! ’ ’ 

“Nor of snails, I fancy,” the man chuckled 
loudly. “But I assure you, Madame, that you 
will never be a real chatelaine until you have 
cultivated a taste for both. The legs of yonder 
fat old chap will make a delicious entree for 
your dejeuner. And as for his lady-love, — she 
and a few more of her kind broiled ” 

“Broiled!” cried the Fat Frog, fairly tumb- 
ling off the lily leaf at the last word. “ 8 acre! 
Didst ever hear a cold-blooded murder planned 
so openly before? They would take me to grace 
their pig table, without so much as a ‘by your 
leave.’ And you too, ma pauvre petite ,” — to 
the Snail, who was fairly rigid with fright, — 
“your destruction is also in their minds. Come, 
come ; we will stop for neither mushrooms nor 
tig's. Come!” 

He gave the frightened Snail a sharp push, 
and she rolled all the way over. She drew her- 
self back into her shell so that nothing but 


20 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


tips of her horns were to be seen. Again he 
pushed her, and this time she rolled to the very 
edge of the terrace. Another push, and she was 
rolling down the velvety green slope, — faster! 
while behind them rang the American’s merry 
laugh, mingled with the loud guffaws of the 
man. 

“He rode up to Miss Mouse’s den, — ho! ho! 

Said he, ‘Miss Mouse, are you within?’ — ho! ho!” 

So sang the American, but she could get no 
further, for her own peals of laughter inter- 
rupted her, and she stood still at the top of the 
terrace, gasping for breath. 

Meanwhile the Snail and the Frog had rolled 
over and over together till they reached the 
foot of the terrace. Btcmp! they went against 
the walk, and then lay very still. 

All was over now, the Frog decided. In an- 
other instant the man and woman would have 
caught up with them and then, — he shuddered 
at the thought, — he would be eaten by an Amer- 
ican! 

How often had he said that it was not death 
he feared but an ignoble death. He would show 
Mademoiselle Snail that he was not afraid, — 
that he was a worthy descendent of that great 
frog whom Henri of Navarre had enjoyed. He 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


21 


sat up very straight, and though his round, 
bright eyes, — set right in the top of his head, — 
were bulging, and though he was panting heav- 
ily, he faced the enemy squarely. He meant to 
die fighting. And then, — a most surprising 
thing happened. 

The American stayed where she was and 
stopped laughing. Her long blue skirts, which 
she had been carrying in one hand as she ran, 
had fallen from her grasp and now trailed un- 
heeded on the ground. 

4 4 Poor little things !” she said, and her voice 
sounded very soft and gentle. 4 ‘We have fright- 
ened them almost to death by our thoughtless- 
ness. And as for eating them,” — she turned 
toward the man and spoke almost indignantly, 
— “If I never learn to be a really truly chate- 
laine , as long as I live I will never, — never eat 
a frog or a snail. So, there !” 

4 4 Oh, ’ ’ the Snail managed to whisper, poking 
just the tiniest bit of her horns out of her 
house, 4 4 oh, — do you suppose she means we are 
not to be eaten after all?” 

44 I — I think so,” stammered the Fat Frog. 
Now that there was a chance of the danger 
being past he was shaking all over. 

4 4 Look at them!” cried the American. 
4 4 Aren’t they funny? Do you know, I believe 


22 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


that they really understand all that we have 
said. ,, 

4 4 Understand !” echoed the Frog indignantly. 
“What manner of idiots does she suppose we 
are? Ciell” 

The Snail said nothing. 

‘ ‘ It would be a very stupid creature who did 
not understand that you were all that is sweet 
and lovely, Madame, ’ ’ said the man, taking her 
hand in his and bowing very low. 

The American’s cheeks grew pinker than 
ever. 

“When I was a little girl I used to have tea- 
parties for them,” she said, — “for frogs and 
snails and caterpillars and all the queer things 
that nobody else liked. How my nurse used to 
scold when she would find a toad tucked inside 
my best sash!” 

She laughed again. Then she leaned over the 
terrace and saw the Fat Frog hopping down the 
path in the direction of the chestnut drive. He 
was pushing the Snail ahead of him, taking care 
of her as a gentleman should. The American 
took out her handkerchief and waved it. 

“Gooddby, Fat Frog,” she called, “good- 
by, little Snail. I am sorry I frightened you. 
I wish you would come back and live at the Villa 
Bergiere. I wish you would sit by my fountain 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


and make love to each other in the snnshine. 
Yon make me feel like a little girl again. ” 

Then she turned toward the Villa, and the 
man followed her, and as they went they sang: 

“Oh, what shall the wedding supper be? — ho! ho! 

A slice of cake and a cup of tea, — ho! ho!” 

The Fat Frog paused in his hopping and 
looked back. He could just catch a glimpse of 
the mushroom-house in the distance, — and he 
was very hungry. 

“ Shall we risk getting the mushrooms after 
all?” he asked. 

But the Snail did not answer. The Fat Frog 
looked at her closely, and found that she had 
fainted dead away. 

Then such a time as the Fat Frog had! He 
put some dew-drops on the Snail’s face; but 
they had no effect. Then he discovered a 
bottle of smelling-salts tucked far back within 
her shell, and he fished out the vinaigrette. 
After the Snail had taken a sniff or two she 
declared she was much better, and insisted that 
she must be taken home right away. 

She said that she didn’t care if she never 
saw a mushroom as long as she lived. She said 
she had never known such a horrible morning 
in all her life. She said she knew she was going 


24 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


to have nervous prostration, and she command- 
ed the Fat Frog to roll her home as fast as 
he could and tell her mother to send for the 
doctor. 

Then she put her head back into her shell and 
refused to speak another word all the rest of 
the way. 

That evening as the Fat Frog sat on his 
favorite stool on the river-bank, telling the story 
of the morning’s adventures to Loti the Black 
Ox, up came the two Crickets, fairly bursting 
with news. 

Madame Snail, so they said, had just an- 
nounced the engagement of her daughter to Dr. 
Slug, and the wedding would take place within 
a week. It seemed, the Crickets assured Loti, 
that the Doctor had long loved the coquettish 
little Snail, but that she would have nothing to 
do with him because he was so quiet and slow. 
Now, however, she had decided that she was 
tired of excitement, that her nerves needed 
soothing, and she had promised to marry him 
and go to housekeeping in a retired part of the 
river-bank. 

If the Fat Frog was distressed at the news, 
he made no sign. He told the Crickets that he 
was much pleased to hear of Mademoiselle 
Snail’s happiness, and he consulted them as to 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


25 


the kind of wedding present they thought most 
suitable. However, after they had gone chirp- 
ing on their way he told Loti that he had about 
concluded that the river-bank was not a healthy 
place to live, and that very shortly he expected 
to move. 

One fine morning soon after this, — the very 
morning of the snail ’s wedding, as it happened, 
— the Fat Frog might have been seen splashing 
in the fountain at the Villa Bergiere. 

Later he sat on the broad lily leaf to cry and 
caught Ties in the sunshine. The American came 
to the window, and sang again : 

“A frog he would a-wooing go, — ” 

and for just a minute he felt a queer little lump 
in his throat as he thought of Mademoiselle 
Snail, — now Madame Slug. 

Then he remembered the mushrooms, and 
shook his head gravely. It would never have 
done for him to marry a person who did not 
care whether she ever saw a mushroom or not. 
No ; he was better off as he was. 

And there in the fountain the Fat Frog stays 
most of the time, only going morning and eve- 
ning to the mushroom-house for a nibble. He 
is growing so fat that he seldom has the energy 
to hop to the river-bank at sunset; so he con- 


26 


THE FAT FROG OF PAU 


tents himself by sending messages to his old 
comrades by any of the flying creatures that 
chance to be going that way. 

And sometimes, — at least, this is what the 
Oriole thinks, — he sighs a bit regretfully when 
he calls to mind that valiant ancestor that lived 
in Henri of Navarre's day. Had circumstances 
been different, he, too, might have been a hero, 
and not lived a placid, commonplace existence 
in the garden of a democratic American chate- 
laine. 

But for the greater part of the time he is 
content with life as it is, and revels in his repu- 
tation for being the oldest and the fattest frog 
in Pau. 


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